


I Saw You

by ariannalockett



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: F/M, Post-The Death Cure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 03:29:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4289019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariannalockett/pseuds/ariannalockett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt is having nightmares in paradise about a certain someone...</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Saw You

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so there are no big spoilers in this because I don't explicitly talk about any of the events that occurred in the Death Cure. So technically there are no spoilers in this... obviously this is all imagined, but it is in the book setting, so not an AU  
> Also first thing i've ever posted so officially! So. yeah. hopefully this goes okay. Enjoy!
> 
> (Obviously the only characters in this fic that belong to me is the OC who I have tagged above. Credit for setting and other characters goes to the genius that is James Dashner)

He won't stop rolling around, won't stop tossing and turning restlessly. The sound of his sheets crackling reaches my ears across the room, making my head spin with worry. I lay down in my own bed, facing the wall and putting my back to his direction in an attempt to try and ignore him, but the terrible sound of his whimpering stretches at my heart until I can no longer stand it.

Lifting my head, I glance over at him just to see him clutching one of his pillows tightly to his body, his hands shaking and the sheets rising up and down, following the pattern of his shallow breathing. I frown and chew on my cheek, watching as he begins whimpering as if in his dreams, beyond where I can see, he's crying.

Immediately I slip out from under my covers, and I swing my feet over the edge of my bed to press them gently to the cold surface of the floor. Standing up, I approach Newt cautiously, my heart in my throat and goosebumps coating every inch of my skin. Reaching his side, I kneel down, and consider stretching my hand out to touch him, and wake him, but the boys have warned me not to. They told me to leave Newt- that he would calm down after some time and that eventually the nightmares would end- but its been a few nights already. I can't bring myself to ignore him anymore, or ignore that he's in pain.

I stay there silently by his side as I hover between my instincts and the instructions given to me by Minho. I've already broken some of them, but not all of them. I want to, but I hesitate, telling myself that perhaps Minho's right, perhaps Newt's nightmares will leave soon. The incessant biting of my nails tells me I don't really believe that.

That's when I feel a hand on my shoulder, startling me so much that I nearly slap Newt. Whipping my head around I see Thomas standing there, his eyes glittering with worry and concern as much as I imagine mine are.

"Newt, he..." I try to say, but my throat is too tight to finish.

Thomas nods, and with heavy sighing he joins me. "I know," he whispers in reply. "I don't know what to do."

"We have to wake him up- don't we?"

"I know but Minho says-"

"Who gives a shuck what Minho says I can't watch Newt go through this anymore," I hiss angrily. Turning to Newt again, I peer down sadly, watching his eyes move around under his eyelids. "Thomas, he looks so hurt."

Thomas squeezes my shoulder. He had never removed his hand from it, and I find I don't mind his comforting gesture. Now both of us lie in wait, each of us hovering anxiously, hoping any minute that Newt will relax. I observe his face, seeing all the sweat dripping from under his hairline, and the twitching pouts of his lips. His arms around the pillow are tight, his muscles tense and rigid.

"Newt, please," I beg quietly.

Nothing changes right away, but then he's releasing the pillow and flipping onto his back, panting with his fists clenched, tearing at the sheets surrounding him.  
Thomas clutches at my shoulder tighter and draws up to his feet, leaning over Newt, and I follow, my toes curled on edge. Newt's head thrashes back and forth a few times and tears start to fill my eyes as I watch the pain etching itself into his traditionally soft features. The small rays of moonlight streaming through the window reflect off his white skin- somehow paler as his mind is plagued by whatever visions he's seeing. I drop my hand to reach for him- my confidence bursting suddenly- when he gasps and his eyes shoot open, flicking in all directions as he struggles to take in his environment.

Sighing relief, I cover my mouth with my hand to hide my urge to sob, and I don't withdraw it so I can lay it on his arm. "Newt!"

He takes a few minutes to catch his breath but he doesn't flinch away from my touch. Instead, he locks his eyes on mine, and with his eyes wide with strict alert, they start to tear up. The moment his first couple weak sobs tumble from his mouth, my anxiousness collapses with a waterfall of tears. I slide down to sit next to him and he rolls onto his side, hugging the arm I have propping me up, curling towards my body as the after effect of his dream takes over him. I duck my head, my hair falling on either side of my face, and with my free hand I wipe at the tears streaming from my eyes. I feel Thomas still near by, and when he sits down on the end of Newt's bed, I feel him watching Newt and I warily. I don't pay him much attention, more focused on Newt than I am my self-consciousness.

"Newt, I'm sorry," I tell him. How could WICKED do this to him? How could they have tortured him so much that even in a place of safety Newt is still trapped by their memory, still prisoner to them? How could they do this to Newt of all people- who has never done anything to deserve this?

Thomas lays his hand on Newt's leg, and scooches closer. "Hey, Newt... it's okay."  
Newt sniffles and then nods his head a little, loosening his grip on my arm to do so. Thomas and I look at each other and grimace simultaneously, seemingly thinking the same thing. At least he nodded- he just needs some time to work through the remnant stress of his nightmare. Now that the relief has fully sunk in to me my own urge to cry with him fades away. It's over, I tell myself. He's awake now, and he's gonna be okay.

Once Newt's crying quiets, I look to Thomas for guidance on what to do now. He swallows and leans over Newt, reaching to touch his shoulder.

"Newt?" He calls softly, his voice low and soothing.

In response, Newt exhales a last shaky breath, and then moves to sit up, releasing my arm. Thomas helps him up, gripping his shoulder and his forearm. Then sitting cross legged between both of us, Newt finds both of our hands and squeezes them assuredly.

"I'm sorry for waking you up," he whispers, his voice rough and husky.  
Thomas puts his arm around Newt's shoulders and pulls Newt into him comfortingly. "It's okay."

Newt peeks at me, and when I catch his eye I smile kindly, entwining my fingers with his firmer. I nod at him to replicate my agreement with Thomas. "I'm just glad you're good now," I tell him.

Newt smiles half-heartedly, and my heart sinks deeper in my chest. He's still upset, and I know no matter what Thomas or I say he'll still feel guilty for worrying us, and he'll still be frustrated with himself for having these nightmares. If only there was a better way to explain to him that it's not his fault. Some way that he would believe us and not dismiss our words because he hears them as his friends being obligated to try to make him feel better.

"You gonna go back to sleep?" Thomas asks him, rubbing Newt's arm.  
Newt snorts doubtfully. "I don't think there's anyway in the whole shucking world to make that happen, Tommy."

Thomas sighs and flicks his eyes at me, suggesting its my turn now.

"Newt..." I begin. "You can't just not sleep."

He sighs miserably and lets go of Thomas to lift his head and run his other hand through his mop of hair. Curled, blonde locks stick out this way and that, and his hand fails to straighten most of them. "With these shucking nightmares I don't think it makes any bloody difference if I sleep or not."

"Newt," I plead.

He looks me right in the eye, his gaze narrow and serious, a flash of fire in them. "Arrie, I can't keep doing this."

"And you won't. They'll go away eventually and until then we'll do what we can," I reply, returning his gaze with equal severity.

"Arrie," Thomas begins. Newt and I both look at him to see him yawning widely. "Stay with him will ya?"

I blink at him, my expression blank. "Stay with him?"

Newt's head snaps up. "Wait, Tommy-"

Thomas looks at me, ignoring Newt to direct his words specifically to me, his eyes glittering with plead. "Stay with him. I think he'll sleep better with company."

Newt shakes his head. "That's a load of klunk it's not gonna-"

"Do you want me to sleep with you instead? Because its me or her- I'm not giving you an option here," Thomas tells Newt firmly. "If it doesn't work then fine but you're my best friend, Newt. We're gonna at least try."

Newt and Thomas stare at each other intently, a silent conversation passing between the both of them. Coming to some sort of agreement, or understanding, Thomas nods, and then stands.

Seeing Thomas stand up to leave us, panic flares up inside me like an electric shock, and I release Newt's hand abruptly, my cheeks flushed with warmth. Suddenly the goosebumps are back. "Thomas-"

Newt, having felt me withdraw my hand, grasps it back just as fast as I let go. It startles me, and I snap my eyes up to meet his. There's worry in them, and some glint of desperation in the way his eyebrows have carved themselves. "Wait, don't go!" he exclaims.

Stunned by his quick, and alarming reaction, I struggle to form words to reply. Thomas, grinning, pats my shoulder encouragingly. "Goodnight, Arrie," he says.

Then, dropping his hand he smiles at the two of us and then trudges off in the direction of his own bed. I follow him until he's climbed in and is lifting the sheets over himself. I probably would have stared after him longer, except Newt grabs my attention again when I feel his hand rest gently against my cheek. Moving my face, he directs me to look at him.

"Don't go," he asks again, softer this time. "I don't know if it will help me sleep better... but I will feel better, I know that. I want you to stay near me," he explains.

Smiling sheepishly, I duck my head to hide how red my face must be. After steadying my heart rate again, I answer. "Okay. If you'll feel better."

He squeezes my hand, and then with a wavering smile, pushes my hair behind my ear, his fingertips trailing over my skin with tenderness. My cheeks warm up more in response, and I peek at him shyly, curious. His eyebrows are lowered in concern, and worry, and his eyes trace over my features with careful calculation.

"Newt?" I call quietly, shifting my weight slightly where I sit.

He blinks and looks into my eyes. "Yeah?"  
"What are you thinking?" I ask him.

He bites his lip. "Nothing. C'mon." Then, letting go of my hand he lays back down, propping his weight up on his elbow as he reaches back for the covers. He looks at me then, waiting, and it dawns on me that I'm supposed to lay down too. A small laugh escapes my mouth as I realize how ridiculous and awkward I am, and then I slide down, settling myself in the mattress, and my head on the pillow. After, Newt pulls the blanket over us and pushes his hand forward until he finds mine again. Then when a silence grows between us Newt resumes watching me the way he had been before. I try to avoid meeting his eyes, and instead look down at our hands that are locked together, but I can still feel him staring at me, and it makes my heart flutter wildly.

"I saw you," he whispers finally, his confession breaking the silence.

My eyebrows fall to rest low over my eyes, and I find the courage to peer up at him. "And?"

He sighs, and starts rubbing his thumb over my hand absent-mindedly. "And they killed you. Right in front of me. Thomas. Minho. We couldn't do anything about it."

"They as in...?" I prompt.

"WICKED," he answers.

I swallow. "How? Why?"

He closes his eyes and releases a long, drawn out exhale through his nose. With him not looking, I take the opportunity to observe him now. The way his jaw tightens when he describes it to me, the way his chest rises up and down with his shallow breaths, the way the muscles in his throat flex on certain words, and how his Adam's apple bobs up and down when he swallows.

"I don't know they..." He groans, and bends his neck down to duck his head. "They wanted to test us. Test our reaction. So they had each of us trapped separately in cages, and we were above an arena. Each one hung at different lengths, and yours was the lowest. So when they released grievers into the arena..." He buries his face in the pillow and pauses. I stay there, unmoving, catching all the hints of his distress- the twitching in his throat as he resists the urge to cry again. When he speaks again, lifting his face to unmuffle his voice, his words are firm, and unwavering, but I can hear the strain he's putting on himself, the raspy texture to his voice. "They got to your cage first and they..." His voice breaks on the last words. "They tore you apart!"

He sucks in a shuddery breath, and immediately my worries for him surge forward and I open my mouth to say something- anything to reassure him- but stumble upon nothing. Instead, I reach out to him and I run my hands through his mop of hair. My heart cracks, yet despite all of this the only discernible thought I have is: he cares about me. He cares about me enough that his nightmares of me dying make him like this. I can't decide if I'm flattered, or concerned.

Then as I finish knotting my fingers in his fair blonde hair, he snatches my waist and drags me into him. A small gasp escapes my mouth, and he locks his arms around me tight, burying his face in the crook of my neck. His breath on my skin makes me shiver, and beyond my control my own breaths come out shaky as well. My heart hammers, and the heat radiating from his body sinks into every pore of my skin, making me feel as if I'm melting all over. Although nervous, I remind myself that this is about him and not me, so I let him clutch me tightly, and I let his lips brush my skin, and I repeat in my head over and over that he just needs reassurance that I'm okay, and that I'm alive, and that that is all this is. That's all.  
As he tightens his arms around me, I sigh and sink deeper into the bed, imagining in my head how we must look, and I can't help but smile a little. I ponder on how strange this all this. He's the one with the nightmare and yet here I am in his arms, and I feel as if I'm the one being comforted.

"Are you feeling better?" I ask him after I sense his arms relaxing around me.  
He pulls his head out from the crook of my neck to touch his forehead to mine. He yawns loudly, and I try to resist laughing at the face he pulls afterwards when I open my eyes to peek at him.

"Yeah," he answers. Dragging his eyes open lazily, he catches me looking at him and finds the energy to smirk. "Strangely enough. Who knew shanks like Tommy could turn out to be a bloody genius?"

"Oh c'mon Thomas is..." I duck my head under his chin to hide my face in his chest as I laugh and blush.

He chuckles. "Nah, you're right, Tommy's a good guy."

I sigh and snuggle closer to Newt, pressing my hands onto his chest and lifting my face to be level with his again. Our noses touch, and I can't resist smiling widely. The two of us lay there in another companionable silence as minutes of the night tick away. I begin to think that maybe Newt has fallen asleep, when all of a sudden I feel one of his hands run up my spine to grab ahold of the back of my neck. His breaths are ragged again, and under my right hand I can feel his heart is pounding. I'm about to ask him what's wrong when he interrupts me swiftly by pressing his lips to mine. My eyes flutter closed immediately, and I forget my questions to the butterflies flapping around my insides, making me sink into him as I unravel with a small moan. With his hand clutching my neck, he pushes my face into his, making the kiss feel firm and desperate and everything I could've wanted from him.

"Don't ever leave my side," he murmurs. "Please, I couldn't take it."

In a daze of euphoria, I nod slowly, and bunching his shirt collar into my fists I bring his lips back to mine and we kiss some more. His lips are soft as they slide over mine, yet strong and demanding as he sucks on my bottom lip, parting my lips so he can scrape his tongue over my teeth. I arch my back as pleasure trickles down my spine and my brain is rapidly engulfed by thoughts of Newt. Newt's nightmares, Newt's bed, Newt's arms, Newt's chest, Newt's lips... Never did I think Thomas' innocent suggestion would lead to me finally getting to kiss Newt. Then again, thinking back on it Thomas' suggestion may not have been all that innocent. Did he know how I felt about Newt? I suppose that wouldn't surprise me, and now that it's too late for me to worry about Newt finding out, I don't even mind that Thomas must have known. I just want to enjoy this, I just want to be on the receiving end of Newt's caring.

Newt's hands slip down to rest on my hips, smoothing over my curves on the way, eliciting small hums of approval from me. Then our lips are moving faster, and there's heat- a lot of heat- and seeking more contact, he pushes into me, trying to roll me onto my back, but I stop him there by pulling away. After giving up on chasing after my lips, he clutches my sides as he tries to catch his breath.

"You're a bloody tease, you know that, right?" He breathes.

"We're in a room with at least a dozen other people," I point out.

He smirks, and tugs my hips forward to connect with his, jarring my senses all over again. "But they're sleeping."

"For now."

Snickering, he leans into me, his hot breath making me shiver is it strokes down my neck. His voice is low and attractive as he whispers. "Alright," he says, his voice both soothing me and making me want to tackle him with that accent of his at the same time. "Let's try and sleep now."

If his beautiful whispers weren't enough, as I settle in to rest against him, his arms enveloping me, his lips brushing over the back of my neck played with my emotions too. As his breathing settled into a calming pattern, mine synchronized to his, and despite my racing heart my body starts growing tired. Then just like that, we both drift off to sleep. Newt didn't wake me up again during the night, and in the morning I wake up to see Newt beside me. He's still asleep, his hair a sure mess and his lips are parted slightly, but there's no evidence at all of any distress. Thomas was right, I think, as I lay my head back down on Newt's chest. Minho too, even. Newt will be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm considering trying to write a Newtmas version of this tidbit... I've never really written gay fanfiction before though, cuz, well, I'm not gay so I can't personalize it the way I can other writings but Newtmas being my OTP and all I should try it at some point. So if you'd like to see that then let me know!


End file.
